


Violet Clouds

by pellondie



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bayern München, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pellondie/pseuds/pellondie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mario leaves for Florence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Violet Clouds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nupoxsi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/gifts).



> She's basically the reason I even got into this. I love you, darling.
> 
> Also, I listened to [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcihcYEOeic) while writing, idk. Maybe open the link for some additional pain~

He couldn’t have made it.

The ground he walked on felt like it was moving in waves, making him trip over his own feet and drawing attention when he absolutely didn’t want any. People worriedly watched him steady himself with his lips pressed together tightly. Pulling up his collar a bit more, he ducked his head and made his way past them and through the boarding check.

He seriously couldn’t have, right?

Against his nature, he dismissively waved a hand at the woman handing back his ticket as she was about to speak up. With hopeful eyes and obviously expecting the charming smirk everyone loved so much about the well-known footballer. But not today, sorry. Today, he just wanted to get away. As far away as possible.

Of course he couldn’t have made it.

He strode forward and pushed his bag behind his hip with his eyes on the blond man standing a few feet away, next to the glass door leading downstairs and outside. He was glad his gaze was hidden behind stained glasses.

No, of course not.

Stepping out into the bright summer sun, he stopped for a second and looked up at the sky, tainted purple thanks to his sunglasses. Sighing deeply, he trailed the outlines of the fluffy, violet clouds and wondered where he’d failed to take off his rose-colored glasses. Where he’d failed to realize things would never be as he imagined them to be.

This was the best he could do.

Averting his eyes, he made his way towards the plane. And at the top of the small staircase, he turned his head over his shoulder and looked back for the last time. Taking in the grey contours, the grey light, the grey faces. Munich wasn’t exactly pretty, but it had become a part of him during the past years. And it had become a reminder. Every time someone as much as mentioned the city’s name, he immediately thought of Thomas.

Not of their team, their family, _his_ family as one. Thomas was always the first one to pop up in his thoughts. Always the first one to cloud up what little space was left in his mind.

He swallowed hard and swayed back on his heels - once, twice - before entering the plane, his mouth a thin line. Keeping his head down and his ticket clutched tight to his chest, he made his way through the narrow passage way. Absentmindedly, he counted the seats and didn’t even bother looking up when someone he passed whispered his name in mild shock.

He should just stop, turn, go back, apologize, take back his red jersey, take back his life, his family, take back his place beside Thomas out on the pitch.

This felt so wrong. Something deep inside his guts churned unpleasantly when he reached his row. He stared down at it for a second, unmoving, before someone tapped him on the shoulder and excused themselves, but they had to- He nodded without taking his eyes off of the seats, making room for the person to walk by as he swiftly slid into his seat by the window.

All of this felt like leaving a limb behind, even though he knew he could probably use it in the future. Would probably regret leaving it behind like this. Should probably rethink all of his actions once more. As if he hadn’t already spent night after night awake, trying to figure out if what he was about to do was the right decision. If he would be alright.

Nothing was ever going to be alright, he thought bitterly. He had probably spent the best time of his life with his former team, and even if he would enjoy playing for Florence at some point – it would never be the same again. He knew he should stop thinking like that, he knew it was pretty childish, though he honestly missed them already. He missed Thomas already. And he couldn’t bear the thought of Thomas’ face, his toothy grin slowly falling apart when he told him he’d leave. The way he’d looked at him, almost affronted, still disbelieving.

He could still hear his dry _You’re kidding, right_ echoing in his head, making him rub his hands over his cheeks and eyes in exhaustion, shoving his sunglasses up his forehead.

This was the best he could do.

If he just told himself this long enough, he might actually come to believe it. He might actually start believing his own lies and promises of the situation getting better some day. Of the lie that this feeling in his chest, which felt like something pressing down on his lungs, would ease out some day, and maybe it would even fade away. Maybe he would start telling those lies to himself on a regular basis. Just in case.

He hadn’t even realized they’d apparently finished boarding, but the plane gave a sudden lurch that had him jump slightly, before softly rolling forward and onto the paved runway. No one had booked the seat beside him.

He was still trying to figure out whether that was a good thing or not, when they started towards the sky, leaving the airport behind. Shrinking, smaller, smaller, until it looked like he could grab the whole terminal and place it onto his palm, if he wanted to. They took a slight turn south and he watched the airport slowly get out of sight, watched Munich slowly get out of sight, and he turned away from the window when the Allianz Arena appeared in the corner of his eye, white and huge and full of memories.

Letting his head drop back into the rather soft headrest, he exhaled silently through his nose and closed his eyes. Thomas was there, grinning at him, almost laughing, with his eyes almost closed and his teeth flashing at him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him forward into the others as they celebrated his goal. It was the first time he’d realized how much he adored him, how hard it would be to go back from there. And he’d taken things too lightly, seeing them through his stupid rose-colored glasses, thinking it could go on forever like this, always like this. Thinking this was it, violet clouds blinding him, and he’d loved it, until he hadn’t.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

And this was the best he could do. 

**Author's Note:**

> Everything is fictional, it probably didn't go like this, I don't own anything, I'm just enjoying to imagine and write this stuff, yo.


End file.
